The heavenly muse composes no suffering;
Thus, Satan sung on the stage his Bohemian Rhapsody
And that Earth Angel fell, for his selfish, strange songs.
For there may be no suffering in heaven, so Rock Music
Was the music that cast the Satan to the earth. Worship through peace.

In thunderous, purple threads,
The mounted Unicorns go
Off to war,---The archer's bone
And sinew bow, in circled
Retreat, fires their missiles
In rains of hell. An army
Marches to close the gap, yet
The wooden shafts of missiles
Pierce the strongest armor as
The horned mounts of Scythians
Trample men in their charge.

He records the darkening of the sun,
Gives the Gospel's exact timeframe for it.
He recorded it during Jesus'
Life, under that Tiberius Caesar.
It would be hearsay, if not had Guang Wu's
Scribes recorded the exact same event.

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.