"ministers" poems
ah, enslave without compassion
bound ancestors you must impale
go seek and show no mercy
let those who escape carry the tale
all the sufferers bearing witness
to their ministers spilling their blood
staggered screeches from bleak recesses
regicide plotters bend to the dust
with unmitigated conquest and **********
trample them under your tyranny
slimy enshrinement brings into question
what's divinely lamented for
scatter populations with ruthlessness
let them choose sycophancy or sword
reappoint difficult commanders
for instigation unbroken awaits
kept in frenzy, they whisper confusion
never quite sure of their fate
with unmitigated conquest and **********
trample them under your tyranny
let the cowardly unlock the gates for you
to heroically claim what's inside
crowds you abhor kneeling in wonder
all the world is your ****** bride
punctuate the roads with tollgates
***** monuments to broadcast your name
all your banquet's guests are your enemies
entertain them with one another's shame
with unmitigated conquest and **********
trample them under your tyranny
with unmitigated conquest and **********
trample them under your tyranny
under your tyranny
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
Take heed of this small child of earth;
He is great; he hath in him God most high.
Children before their fleshly birth
Are lights alive in the blue sky.
In our light bitter world of wrong
They come; God gives us them awhile.
His speech is in their stammering tongue,
And his forgiveness in their smile.
Their sweet light rests upon our eyes.
Alas! their right to joy is plain.
If they are hungry Paradise
Weeps, and, if cold, Heaven thrills with pain.
The want that saps their sinless flower
Speaks judgment on sin's ministers.
Man holds an angel in his power.
Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs,
When God seeks out these tender things
Whom in the shadow where we sleep
He sends us clothed about with wings,
And finds them ragged babes that weep!
4.4k
I've just joined the Liberal Democrats,
My mates reckon they're all a bunch of *****
But I say "what do you know?",
"I've read their entire manifesto".
Well that was a lie,
If ever I've told one,
In truth I know maybe 5,
Policies of theirs and then I'm done.
But what's the point in all of this,
Cameron says "hug a hoodie",
What could be next?,
Give a burglar a kiss?
Oh well it's all a guessing game,
At the end of the day,
No politician has a sense of shame,
And no shortage of cash on their payday.
When I turn 18,
What do I do?,
Vote for the colour I like best,
Or speak the truth?
Debates and elections,
Aren't really democratic,
Cause no ministers have the courage,
To make their policies stick.
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
I stood where Love in brimming armfuls bore
Slight wanton flowers and foolish toys of fruit:
And round him ladies thronged in warm pursuit,
Fingered and lipped and proffered the strange store:
And from one hand the petal and the core
Savoured of sleep; and cluster and curled shoot
Seemed from another hand like shame’s salute,—
Gifts that I felt my cheek was blushing for.
At last Love bade my Lady give the same:
And as I looked, the dew was light thereon;
And as I took them, at her touch they shone
With inmost heaven-hue of the heart of flame.
And then Love said: ‘Lo! when the hand is hers,
Follies of love are love’s true ministers.’
3.1k
The country road like poet’s fancies unravels
Through the giant hanky- sized paddy fields
And the dream sized ponds
Dotting the landscape
in perfect squires and riots of skewed and regular shapes
The green spread and the muddy beds, spell the village beauty.
Parrot green fields
And stark blue skies look at each other
In perfect silence, like mother and babe
And a great , grey house exposing its ragged bricks,
Bared like the buck tooth of the old
Provokes a village memory
Past picking itself slowy and ambling into the future
Its wooden columns
stand like mute exclamation marks!
or so it may look to me.
Flies the skidding scaly tarred snake
Fast and spreading like the traveler travelling on it.
Patchy it looks, now;
And full like the misery of the scorned lover
Eager like the maiden speech of a parlimentarian
The country road, runs fluid like a stream after the rains.
As the rustle of the engine trips and falls
into the divine air.
A roaming peacock calling adds charm to the great whole fare
A winged beauty, struts across
Nudged by the sputtering , speeding me.
The exotic avian attains the hedges galore
With its metal blue feathery strangeness blurred in my glancing eye
A species rare, found only in ornithologists diary.
A clamour in the air
And the school boys emerge in buddy pairs
Beneath the village banyan
That let loose its tresses to dry like a country maid.
I see, a promising glint in their eyes
The will make themselves of king and ministers of the modern days
The sonority of ringing bell
clubs the cacophony of school boys in into two dead parts.
They return to their classes, sanctified by the silence,
And open their minds to the feminine vocie.
A Glorious moment ,
As the morn of wisdom is born
Rich are the sightings of poor country side
And many are the mappings on the way,
My sensibilities recouped,
I drove back
not spent
But profound.
sound.
Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Wcre called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
2.9k
Strange, then maybe it's me.
All these kiss-up politicians in commercials against sanctuary cities.
Remind you they wouldn't assist anyone in need.
Probably wouldn't offer them food or clothes.
Really!-probably not a thing.
Many would have instantly supported that ****** dictator in his conquest.
And left many concentration victims in camps.
We, required to help those seeking protection.
Not attack them because of their heritage or skin color.
But notice highly with a truth that many ministers hide instead of assisting those they need to be trying to recruit.
Scriptures, states the poor shall inherit the earth.
Nothing at all about the successful.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
dab for the teachers
dab for the kids
dab for the ministers
dab for the office workers
dab for the police
dab for the cafeteria workers
dab for the janitors
dab for the musicians not heard
dab for the bosses
dab for the civilizations to come
dab for the respectful
dab for the nice ones
dab for the politicians
dab for the moms
dab for the dads
dab for the able
dab for the disabled
dab for the poor
dab for the mechanics
dab for the coaches
dab for your family
dab for your friends
dab for her
and for him
dab for yourself
and
dab for appreciation
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
They hailed
and prostrated on the dust
as the monstrous jeeps passed.
Chants of praises
in loud native phrases
all for one man with deep pockets.
White man would look and say,
" Africans "
Black man would look, smile
and shake his head.
We say Nigeria is distressed
We say there is no money
We say all our leaders should face the firing squad
We say alot of things.
Churches are increasing,
Spiritual leaders are prophesizing,
Intellectuals are holding conferences,
Analylists are investigating,
Ministers are budjeting
and yet nothing is changed.
Still that black man on
the presidential seat wants
a second term.
Another term of nothingness.
I know everyone deserves
a second chance,
but ruling Nigeria
isnt a dice game.
We are in a state of nature
where every man is a danger
to the next.
Even body parts can not be guaranteed
to remain in one piece,
even in death
because of these ritual get-rich quick individuals.
Just like a mathematical equation,
Nigeria's solution
is " no solution ".
But, because there is no answer
doesnt mean it can not be solved at all.
I would not be the first to write about Nigeria
nor will i be the last,
but let history record
that at least i verbally cared.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
Have you ever "dashed through the snow"
"in a one horse open sleigh"
Seen eight maids a milking
saw the three ships I saw today
Have you ever seen a reindeer
With a nose that blinks bright red
Dreamt of fairies and of sugar plums
While sleeping in your bed
Have you ever put a penny
In the old man's hat
Sat down in the parlor
And played "the ministers cat"?
Have you travelled off to whoville
Seen the grinch, his fur all green
Have you ever seen Oriental Kings
Frankincense..I've never seen
But, at Christmas, yes at Christmas
We all sing and sing so well
Of these things that we believe in
And of things we know so well
I've never seen a Christmas
Where a snowman comes to life
But, for me, he lives each Christmas
With Jack Frost, and Frosty's wife
Seeing is believing,
But at Christmas, not so much
We believe in Father Christmas
Things we can't see and won't touch
Christmas is more than giving
It's a feeling in your soul
It's believing in mankinds goodness
Christmas makes me whole.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 6:22 PM UTC
Congressmen, police and ministers
All can be particularly sinister
When they take it upon themselves
To think of us as shoemakers elves
Fairytale beings who then madly
Exist only to work for them gladly;
Drudges to work for them out of sight,
Creatures that give in without a fight.
A sense of privilege causes this.
As fate is always rather hit and miss
It’s not granted by common sense,
More like a caprice of something dense;
A dark deity that is impressed by wealth
Without regard to someone’s right or health.
And the scary people the malady infests
Seems unaware of the evil it ingests.
Limelight and spotlights are the energy
That often drives their ***** perfidy.
But just as often, these fools don’t care
Who knows of their arts, no need to share.
They while away at greed and perdition
And certainly need anybody’s permission.
They only live to gobble and acquire
And never need anyone call them ‘sire’.
The most frightful of these lustful ones
Are those who ply their will with guns.
They decide the good from enemies
And few seem good to these entities.
They only plot their murderous plans
Without regard to the rights of man.
If you get in their way, you are foe.
That is as far as their thinking goes.
For that is the point here, after all.
These creatures ignore propriety’s call.
And the same with society, it is true.
Those needs, for them, will not do.
They work sorcery behind the scenes
And create acts that are truly obscene.
It matters not what is wrong or right
They are ever-vigilant, day and night.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
My name is bill, no capitalization, required,
the Writer will be ill, soon, once he gets me,
or my friends in the mail, my cousin e bill.
Won’t be far behind, a marvel of technology!
I am famed and legendary, but be wary,
we attack in groups and bunches and
don’t rely on hunches that you settled with us.
We don’t make a fuss or a muss, we will cut
off your cable, and internet, see?
Hydro and Natural Gas you can ill afford
to miss, we do pay dates, instead of play dates.
So if you don’t pay up we are through
with you, hope you can find your self in
the dark, call us and we will talk until your
cell phone loses power or they drop your
call from their towering collection.
So with affection,
from us named bill,
make a plan and a will,
to pay us on time, after
all it is your dime, until it
is ours, all ours.
You can take that to the bank,
but we will do it for you too!
Save you the trip...
signed the
bills
P.S.(we were going to list a few,
but we don’t name names, we
just collect Presidents and Prime Ministers,
they may be dead or royalty, but they are
acceptable to faceless nameless ones,called
bill(s), Thanks!)
©DWE042013
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
What is a fear of death beyond ones fear of whence they came? You are not alive, if you were not dead prior. Our confusion and misconceptions are signs of something unsightly within society; an idea of cause and effect. There is no cause, and there is no effect, at least not beyond the ***** conclusions of the human mind, which is, in effect, all delusion. We're neither fools or saints, and it doesn't matter what you wear, where you're from, of what you believe in. We are all one in substance and one with the true and natural matter of the universe, when we're **** Also, trust me. Being **** is only rude because our crude minds have altered the context of *** and what's beautiful. Disgust or attraction from ones naked body is a sign of our losing touch with reality. Do you prefer the looks of one tree to another? If not, should you care if whose **** is your girlfriend, your mom, or your brother?
This doesn't mean you should be sexually attracted to the latter, and not to the former... but one must understand the difference between nudeness and ***** because *** is beautiful, at least when it's normal, and raw.
*** is no sin, and nudeness no vice; sexists don't win, and nudists don't fight.
So pass me your bullets, artificial like clothing; put down your guns, a production of loathing.
Insecurity flourishes in Converse and cars, in defining whats right to Prime Ministers and Tsars,
So lift up your fists and break all of your fingers; allow all the pain inside your hands to linger,
Make doubly sure your trigger finger can't fire, otherwise that same finger may make a peace lover a liar.
Are we all higher than the primal sweat we perspire?
Yes; when we find it in our hearts to inspire, and not expire the souls of ourselves and of others;
To realize we are all but sisters and brothers,
Living as lovers,
In love.
Jun 7, 2011
Jun 7, 2011 at 11:26 AM UTC
Cricket it is funny that yobbos
Like cricket till they find out that
Some players are out for ball tampering
I don’t think it is wrong to suspend them
They deserve it
They shouldn’t do it
It is just not cricket to believe in just watching the big players
What about the new players
Coming up, and this ball tampering thing brings that on
Because they do wrong and we get new players
Yobbos say we can’t cheer for the new ones we should just cheer for best ones
But I think that is just not cricket
Ya know people have fun taking their sons and daughters to the cricket watching players come of age but yobbos boycott the
Cricket because a few players get suspended for wrong doing
And that is just not cricket
Just not cricket mate at all
And people should realise that players stuff up and there is nothing wrong with supporting the cricket like it was a shame that the prime ministers XI only got 1000 to go to the game and if it is only because of the players out for ball tampering
That isn’t what I call cricket at all, no, I say support the cricket
Go to the one dayers, and tests and big bash and other styles
And support the teams rather than the idiots who spoiled the game for the rest of them
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
I regard what calls itself "Christianity" today, as so much RELIGIOUS ****
Why? The Apostle Paul wrote this in his second letter to the Corinthians
2nd Cor 11:4 For if he that cometh preacheth another Jesus, whom we have not preached, or if ye receive another spirit, which ye have not received, or another gospel, which ye have not accepted, ye might well bear with him.
KJV
Some earmarks of "another Jesus"
· He was borne on Christmas
· His "Triumphal Entry" was on Palm Sunday
· His Crucifixion was on Good Friday
· His Resurrection was on Easter
· He turned water into grape juice
· He inspired the NIV (or anything other than the KJV)
· He prays the Lord's Prayer "...thy will be done on earth..."
· His "gospel" is John 3:16
· If he didn't have brothers and sisters
· If he loves EVERYBODY
· If his mother makes apparitions
· If he builds his church upon Peter (Matt 16:18)
· If you have to say the "Sinner's Prayer" to be saved (John 6:44)
· If some "Reverend Doctor" preaches about him
· If a ThD "Theologian" explains him
· If his ministers call themselves "Reverend" of "Father"
· His followers refer to the 3rd Person of the Godhead as "Holy Spirit"
Go tell your Lovey-Dovey jESUS: he can take his salvation and shove it up his ass...AND TELL HIM THAT I SAID SO!
If your opinion of ANY of the above is: "It doesn't matter", then YOU, your church your pastor, your denomination, your jESUS, your gOD - are so much RELIGIOUS SHIT...ask Nadab and Abihu how much it matters! (that is of course, if your stupid *** even knows who they are)
Also, if you still think it doesn't matter, because one day you're going to fly away to meet your lovey-dovey lord in the lovey-dovey clouds...your dumb *** will wonder why you are still here when the FIRST SEAL BREAKS
There are 7 years soon to commence, it's called the Great Tribulation. All you lovey-dovey ***** Chunk "christians" will have an opportunity to PROVE that you REALLY ARE what you claim to be.
++++
Do you think you will survive? The coming Seven Years
It's called the Tribulation, a time of and pain and tears
-
Chances are not good, that you'll live to see it through
You'll probably be killed, your not the chosen few
-
You will greet the Antichrist, and you'll take his Mark
This guarantees you'll burn in Hell, the warnings were so stark
-
For 1000 years you'll burn, before you stand before the Throne
The Great White Throne of God, you He will disown
-
Then you'll be cast alive, into The Lake of Fire
With all RELIGIOUS **** and every other liar
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 4:07 AM UTC
Sinister ministers deliver scriptures per
Illicit missions to present religious works for intrinsic worth
Men amended an "Amen" to end to the verse
Then apprehended the script they knew Kemet had written first
I’m in the blemish my kin is a part of the sin it hurts
Given my hair and skin were both considered dirt since the birth
It’s printed in their gospel I’ve been getting worse since the curse
It’s vivid plagiarism for the villain to get the perks
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
Peace! God’s Peace upon you all! The Bishop blessed
The dyed-young congregation: dyed fathers ‘n mothers,
Grandpas ‘n grannies, great-grandpas and great-grannies.
The demons of decadence--Hair dye, ****** and Spirits –
Chuckled and giggled, crouching well under the pulpit.
Dyed gurus ‘n financiers, dyed lawyers, doctors n’ nurses,
****** entrepreneurs and ****** entertainers, dyed judges
Dyed ‘n spirited evangelists, priests and vergers on ******
Peace be upon thee all! Blessed the Bishop from the pulpit.
Now, the demons in the hiding iterated and reiterated it.
A Sunday spirited chat—all smiles! -- in the church portico:
The Viagra-dyed banker in later life smiled a dyed smile
At the elderly dyed mother of three; and she said: they say,
In spite of my age, you know, I look so young and pretty!
And the thick flanks under her chin jiggled in approbation.
The ****** great-grandpa said to the dyed Justice of spirits:
Milord, they say: “The stuff brings cancer;” Fools! Idiots!
“The gloves—the condom-like device—that’s our safety!”
“Milord! This trinity wizard, they bring a million crores
To the exchequer of this famished democracy, milord!”
“Milord! The nature lovers say, we wash billions of bottles
Of these magic stuffs into their rivers and the seas, milord!”
“They say we all-- dyed ****** men-- are sissies and doofuses!”
“Milord! Our tubby women dye young, lest they’d be labelled
Mammy, Granny, Grandma, Old Granny, the decrepit ‘n that!
Now, the dyed media reported: father mated with his daughter,
Mother with a teenager, grandpa with an infant; and Ministers,
MLAs, MPs—all spirits-Viagra-dyed-- are in a ******* spree!
Now the Dark Trinity cried “Wow! In this world of ******
The Kingdom, the Power and the Glory--all are ours! Amen!
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
When lightning has struck me
eighty-two times
I want to hear everything
and on the eighty-third
hear nothing but
the most precious of memories.
I hope I can recount stories
of our embarrassing proposal
and the angry Presbyterian ministers
performing the ceremony
because in twenty-two and a half
years I have never once believed
my grandparents loved each other,
but last night the second Julian
recounted he and Lavern's saga
of a marriage that ended in
four fuck-ups and decades of
disappointment
with the most agreeable disposition-
even for a man dying
of too much salt in his diet.
I only hope someone will love me
enough to eat bland food
and our grandson's vegetables one day.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
The best actors, with the best directors and producers are in church.
We just play along to make it work.
We all have sinned during the week.
Then get in church and pray for a change.
Just to get out and do it again.
Only fooling ourselves and a few others.,
But not fooling God.
Scams and schemes he plays no part.
We all know those that holds position within church.
Mainly because others don't want the pressure.
Comedians jokes about them.
And we laugh.
Especially when they talk about the ministers ,sisters, elders and deacons.
Even the rabbi and the priest.
We all are actors of this earth.
Pushing on an image to please others.
The only real ones within the church, are the children.
After all, God has stated a child should lead us.
And they are the ones not to be called pretenders.
We have various actors ready to jump.
And claim they doing it in the name of the lord.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
Oh, we schemes ourselves into pretense.
Presenting to others a certain image.
Not just the ministers, evangelists and host of others.
The church makeup is made of many people.
Many, who stories we barely aware of in truth?
And some testimonies doesn't need to be shared.
This just the nosy way of knowing many personal affairs.
The adultery spouse.
Crooked businessman.
The drug dealers of the street.
Yes, various people we are gonna meet.
The church makeup contains many characters in the seats.
Like the supported choirs that states "Preach preacher, preach."
Or say "Amen" to every single thing.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
Midsummer midnight skies,
Midsummer midnight influences and airs,
The shining, sensitive silver of the sea
Touched with the strange-hued blazonings of dawn;
And all so solemnly still I seem to hear
The breathing of Life and Death,
The secular Accomplices,
Renewing the visible miracle of the world.
The wistful stars
Shine like good memories. The young morning wind
Blows full of unforgotten hours
As over a region of roses. Life and Death
Sound on--sound on . . . And the night magical,
Troubled yet comforting, thrills
As if the Enchanted Castle at the heart
Of the wood's dark wonderment
Swung wide his valves, and filled the dim sea-banks
With exquisite visitants:
Words fiery-hearted yet, dreams and desires
With living looks intolerable, regrets
Whose voice comes as the voice of an only child
Heard from the grave: shapes of a Might-Have-Been--
Beautiful, miserable, distraught--
The Law no man may baffle denied and slew.
The spell-bound ships stand as at gaze
To let the marvel by. The grey road glooms . . .
Glimmers . . . goes out . . . and there, O, there where it fades,
What grace, what glamour, what wild will,
Transfigure the shadows? Whose,
Heart of my heart, Soul of my soul, but yours?
Ghosts--ghosts--the sapphirine air
Teems with them even to the gleaming ends
Of the wild day-spring! Ghosts,
Everywhere--everywhere--till I and you
At last--dear love, at last!--
Are in the dreaming, even as Life and Death,
Twin-ministers of the unoriginal Will.
1.8k