PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … October 18th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3463)

Only Once

The doctor wants my skin

The devil craves my soul

The gossips find my sin

The tension takes its toll

The town needs a son

The school gives a grade

I want some fun

Willing to make a trade

Touching girly flesh

Blessed are the meek

Need to have it fresh

Sick of being weak

Pieces of the Word

Spoken piously

Often seem absurd

Meaningless to me

I’m pissed hearing bells

Like a rat in a maze

Please let me tell

It’s not just a phase

I’m stuck in a place

Where they won’t preach

Haunted by a space

A lesson you can’t teach

A whisper in the dark

I flee from the light

It’s time to make my mark

Pleasure is in sight

Searing raw

Lost obscene

Only once

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … October 11th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3456)

What That Dude Sees in Me

I am not what you think I am

Always good or mostly bad

I am more than I appear to be

Sometimes happy, often sad

I am a believing soul

Filled with guilty doubt

I am usually half, rarely whole

Plagued by this childish pout

I know more than I recall

Fat I am, insisting I’m tall

My knack for offering sexual pleasure

Is rather limited, not beyond measure

I’m cranky when sweet is required

Full of fuss, rarely desired

I believe in myself to a fault

While questioning you and your result

I’m never nasty, but tart and sour

Squabbling over minutes, I then lose my hour

I am my father’s son and my mother’s little boy

I’m reminded things are good

But refuse to walk in joy

Yet yesterday a whisper caught my ear

I mustered the function to stop and hear

You were in need, I understood

Reaching out, did what I could

You called me an angel–I had to smile

Recounting my temper and fits of guile

Even though I’m riddled with delusion

I was truly uplifted by your conclusion

So a prayer I offered to the open sky

A humble plea, a dreamer’s cry

Lord, guide this chump to be

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … October 4th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3449)

Broken Windows

1776 — BANG!

1863 — BANG, BANG, BANG!

1945 — KABOOM! KABLAM! KABLAST!

1971 — da da da da ripple roo da da da da cha cha do

2017 — buzz buzz kill kill rip roar tear split zip zap zap zip zippety zap zap zoom

From hell on high

Bullets from the sky

A rain of terror

A grotesque error

He made it his job

To spill the blood of the mob

Broken windows

No grace

Obliterate the country race

Why’d he do it?

Did you know him?

Was he on Facebook?

Was it mission or whim?

Everyone needs a gun

It’s a helluva lot of fun

Finding a place to shoot

So damn cool, what a hoot

A King Kong climbed the building

Bringing death from above

150 rounds a minute

Can’t be stopped by words of love

A gun has a trigger

A trigger, a bullet

The bullet has a mission

To alter the human condition

One pull on the trigger

Makes the death toll bigger

If the dudes in powdered wigs could view

What has happened with Amendment Two

If every soul in Vegas Town

Had a gun and turned around

And shot to kill Monster Man

They would have fallen short

Still cursed with the same report

People are dead, the announcer said

We’ve lost the fight.

Be safe.

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … September 27th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3442)

Harmless

At the end of my arm

Is a helping hand

Here’s my leg

With a foot ready to go

At the tip of my nose

Your business begins

My eyes are clear

I want to see

My ears are open

I’m listening

My tongue is tamed

To speak forth praise

My mind is free

To be renewed

Create in me

A clean heart, O God

I have made room

For a right spirit

I have breath for words

Which justify, not condemn

I need to be harmless

I want to be harmless

So you can trust me

And I can trust me, too.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … September 20th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3435)

Even Longer

Come, behold the fractured frame

A union of regal holy name

Souls bound in a love so true

One found one, translated two

Two became a mysterious single

As will and purpose gently mingle

But pain exposed the dangerous lie

While pardon, forgiveness and patience try

To have her perfect work

Faithfully pursue, never shirk

Yet trust is a stingy master

Running yon with each disaster

Abandoning the glory of former days

Demanding repentance, a changing of ways

To mesh as one the broken seal

Make the hearts regain the feel

Mending the rip in the fragile skin

Brought about by careless sin

And welcome the chance–be born again

Dissect the critics and welcome your twin

So the twain can emerge as one flesh

Baptized in their tears suddenly afresh

Ma’am to sir, he lied to her

Sir to ma’am, he gives a damn

For the new love will be stronger

Conceived to last even longer.

Dedicated to JA at OK

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … September 13th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3428)

When I Fuss

When I fuss over nothing

I hear laughter from the clouds

As I stomp in fury

A thousand ants scurry to safety

Taking a deep breath

A galaxy is rescued

Smiling at a stranger

Locates the starving child

Look at me, curse my life

And the graveyard moans a desire

My gossiping is spewing lies

Delaying Mother from sprinkling rain

A donation placed in a pauper’s hand

Dribbles a cup of concern to the demented

Voicing my objection to godly science

Giggling angels shake their heads, shrugging

My purpose is meaningful, I find I can

When I abandon my selfish plan.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant … September 6th, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

(3421)

Z or P

Rising from my bed

I really wasn’t dead

Just somewhat fond of sleep

Like Bo-Peep with her sheep

 

I considered a roll to the right

To continue my blissful night

But there within my sight

Was a splash of morning light

So groan I did

Close my lid

And lie there very still

My toasty form

Is cuddly and warm

Not wishing a morning chill

But as I pause

For my sleepy cause

Reality stirs in me

I GOT TO PEE

And not just a wee bit

But a raging sea-fit

Threatening like tingling ants

To drown me in my pants

It comes to me

What shall it be?

Perhaps continue to snooze

And maybe then I’d lose

Control of me bladder

A very embarrassing matter

Nature certainly has her ways

To get us involved in our days

If we want the night

And fight the determined light

The sun will surely win

So Little Boy Blue

Blow your horn

Sloth–it be a deadly sin.

 

 

 

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