God is love.
God is peace.
God is faith.
God is righteousness.
God is joy.

Only through the Holy Spirit
Can we possess these things.
The statement always made sense to me.
That these things are the evidences for God.

Wherever there is true love,
There is God's force emollient within the heart and mind.
It has grown so cold, as of late,
Not many remember it, nor know what it is.

But I do.

The Modern writer is such a fool 
Who writes his bathos, oh so ever cruel; 
He speaks a word of ill advisal: 
He gives great poets steep reprisal. 
He does not respect the solemn day, 
And decrees the "Vortex", only this age 
Will please him, its words like sticks and stones--- 
A primitive monkey building with chicken bones. 
So I say this, to you a wayward, tool: 
The great poet speaks in their hidden runes 
Which alites a secret riddle of odes 
Mulled and walked over a lifetime's road. 
"The prize goes to the poet who's foul 
"It goes to one whose verse, is that a sow's." 
So corrupt engines do alight this day 
To take a laureate and make him vain. 

Like the hart, my tongue heaves for you,
Beulah, my Daughter of Zion.

The water brooks are dry, I am
Thirsty, oh Daughter of Zion.

Thy walls are pleasant; Thy Fair City
Pleasure; come---Daughter of Zion.

I am nigh wasting poverty
Heavenly, Daughter of Zion.

Let this Broomtree be written in
Thy streets, Thou Daughter of Zion.

I sit across from a Christian.
We're playing Texas Hold Em.

My cards are dealt.
I get dealt a Jack of Clubs and a Queen of Spades.
My partner bets the big blind;
I ante in.

The flop gets played,
A Jack, Ace and Ten of hearts.

I see my jack pairs well.
But he couldn't have the flush.
Because he bets cautiously,
Exposing he doesn't have the hand.
I cautiously meet his bet;
But I don't raise it.

Next comes the fourth street
And I see a queen of diamonds
Is played. I'm one away from a full house,
But have two pair.
He doesn't bet---
So, I raise him with half my chips.
He has a tell that he's lost...
But, goes in.
"The fool."

Then, the queen of clubs is the river.
He again, doesn't bet.
I without hesitation go all in.
"I'm all in on a loser, who probably has a flush."
The pot is settled,
We show our hands.

He reveals the Queen and King of Hearts;
A royal flush.
"He had it from the beginning;
"How didn't I see it?"

A selfish brat, characteristic of our modern heroine.
She forsakes love, friendship, and learns jujitsu, while her mother
Is vindicated for her crime of child abandonment.
It starts off as a nice movie---then, like hume, muddles into 
Absurdities, telling women to abandon husband, child
And to learn martial arts, as a homeless black man ushers in
The Moral tale of this iconic flop. Diversity in
The advancement of chauvinism and churlish narcissism.

Covid Lockdowns are killing more people than covid.

Elishah walked tonight, 
Silently, looking at the five days aged 
Crescent moon.
Hearing scorn of children's fright,
Undaunted, with the sweet melodies
Of Hero and Leander
Singing their hymns across the deep.

There they sing, as if Apollos and Calliope,
Betraying an innocence of a generation passing away.
A sweet, innocent narcissism,
Harmless and fully justified
For a generation whose brilliance
Shined brighter than the starry night.

The children scorned,
Yet the gentle woman came to mind;
Reacquainted once more
By the widow's stones
And the footprints upon the beach.
As if the Gentle woman were looking
For the agéd sun over the hoary foam 
And quieting noise.

The evidence says 
"Peace!" And As they say "Peace, Peace, 
Safety, happiness"
There is only frustration
And rebellion and black war.

For the Atheistic Left

Alas, Laureate of my day,
Your verse is sublimer in a good sort of way.
I have Jesus Loves you on the face of my wallet
That a kind man gave me once in private.
It's a sticker with a rainbow's color
But let me tell you why Homoeroticus lovers
Are forbade by God and His holy hammer.

As a man, I need not worry about the thing;
What people do is their choice, you see.
But, why God must judge a Gay or Straight man
For sexual sins which are wrought in the land
Is that the compounding effect is it makes souls less gay;
They get choked of their love, and needless to say
That it makes finding love just a little bit harder
And let's be honest, it's probably bequeathed by a mother
Who does not but coddle the child
Or it's wrought by a strange sort of pedophile.

I need not judge the man or woman in sin
But compounding interests make it harder to live
In peace with man and woman, and fay
Is made less fay, and sin made less sin.

So, honest to me, I tell them the truth.
It is not I, but God's holy alliance and moot
It is to make it less of a crime
But it's not my place to judge, or to give them a hard time.

I myself have made many a suffer
And I myself have not obeyed father or mother.
So where am I to judge these folk?
I do not, but having compassion on most
Will tell them where a sin is a sin
And by compassion warn them time and again.