Monday Poems – “The beasts of the East”

The beasts of the East

The beasts of the East rule the land that exists,
With the wisdom brawn gives them and war-mongering fists.
The beasts of the East speak their message quite loud-
They are creatures with features both mighty and proud.
And the beasts of the East have never tasted defeat,
Taking homes, breaking bones and then dining on meat
That these beasts from the East steal from innocent backs
That from behind were blindsided with cowardly attacks.
The beasts of the East take their plunder back home
Spending money on honeys so they’re never alone.
The beasts of the East while they self-glorify
Sense days of slumber are numbered, they have nowhere to hide.
Comet or flood,
Diseases or mud,
The greatest of all shall still fall if they haven’t got love.
The beasts of the East and the least of the Earth,
All have a date with there maker the day they’re covered with dirt.

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Monday Poem “Shoes”

Shoes

You can tell a lot about a man by his shoes-
Don’t take his advice
If they are new,
Or pick a fight when
They’ve been abused,
But if they look old,
Well-worn and used
You’ll know the owner is worth listening to.

Monday Poem- “Out of the boat 2”

Out of the boat 2

If the world was made of water
And our home the ocean deep,
Then would you say hello to me
If you past me down the street?
Would you still let me just float by
And not really go that deep?
If my life was up against the tide
Would we ever really meet?

But our lives are not designed that way
So why have we still not met?
You float on by with watery eyes
As though you’re swimming past a net.
You look scared, you’re hooked and snared,
I want to help, I’m not a threat.
I’ll cut your line and you’ll cut mine
If we can only just connect.

We’re not schools of fools, we’re people!
So don’t clam up, lets end
Being merely strangers
And let’s hook up and be friends.

Monday Poem- “Origin or sin”

Origin or sin

“Let there be something”
Said no one to nothing
But no sound was found-
There were no words to be heard,
Or ears to hear
Or speaking lips
Or a medium which
Sound could exist.
Nothing.
No thing.
Not a thing,
But then it exploded.
A likely story
That although boring
Helps us sleep at night.

Matter splattered,
Protons, atoms,
Suddenly happened
And arranged themselves in order.
Primal chaos reigned
And then became
More complex
But I confess
That it’s insane for me
To just believe
A theory as fact-
The big bang of the gaps
Doesn’t tell me crap.

Monday Poem- “Communist Paint Sniffers”

Communist paint sniffers

Through my black mirror
The doll-faced little zombies
Sang words of adoration
In drugged, monotone grunts and groans of death.
The pasty brittle faces giving hazy little praises
To the God who permitted debt,
Sickness and pestilence.
But their little is big through my black mirror.
They have no home, no gifts, or hope that I can see
As they stand and sing and smile and freeze.
They have no black mirror, no food or drink
Or clothes, family or time to think.
These tiny little zombies smile
As they pray to a God who seems to take a while!
But He gave them what they have (this Lord of hosts),
Not much but they have more than most.
I look into my black mirror and don’t like these kids I see,
Should I help them be set up? Could God actually use me?
But I need to be distracted
And my mirror has apps for that,
so I click away
I guess I’m the zombie now.

Monday poem- “With fury poured out”

With fury poured out

They say the jury is out
But as His fury pours out
God disagrees…

Nature crafts
With fury poured out,
I sit inside and wait for the weather.
Aggressively beautiful
This rain does more
Than any genius in his lab or
Other type of work.
The rain stops and I go outside,
I breathe in the air
And newness holds me there.
My senses are engaged,
My patience has been paid
And I now hold onto
This priceless precious wage-
The air I share with now,
Too valuable to gauge.

The jury is out
Is what we get told
But with fury poured out
The verdict is gold.

Monday Poem- “Jungle Man”

Jungle Man

In the jungle
One day I met a man
Who had obviously been there more than I
He informed me
That looks are deceiving
That he had woken up that morning for a walk
So I asked him
How he came to walk here
He took a wrong turn in the desert where he slept

My jungle friend
How I would love to help
But I too am stranded in this twisted wild place
My jungle friend
He helped me see myself
As I looked into his empty twisted wild face

There is no substitute for time alone in silence
No substitute for the rivers
Flowing with rhythm (controlled but free)
There is no substitute for the peace of violence
No substitute for this refining time with me

In the city
One day I met a man
Who looked rather like the man I met before
I informed him
Of my jungle dreaming
And of the ugly twisted face that I’d just saw
He asked me for a light
And he asked me for a fight
So I said that I don’t smoke
and that I’m not the fighting sort of bloke
While he looked at me with beady eyes
With greedy eyes
And needy cries
So he looked at me with beady eyes
And then he saw himself

A broken man
Unavailable for more
Incapable of war
But unstable like before
Not like the jungle man I saw
Not like the me I am before the dawn