louis gander, 19 march 2013
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Another child molested,
while we live unaware.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Abused and battered mothers -
but leave - they wouldn't dare.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
A mother and her daughter -
now homeless, in despair.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
They've no place with little food
and nothing much to wear.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Then a fellow takes them in -
another plight they share.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Tell yourself that they're okay -
it's not so bad out there.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Go about your business and
convince yourself it's rare.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Faithful always, our routine
with comfort in the air.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
It doesn't really matter.
It's happening elsewhere.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
We'd rather do the talking
from our most favorite chair.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Pray a few more minutes and
convince your God you care.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
Tell God about your troubles -
then see if He's unfair.
Goodnight my Christian brother.
Please say a little prayer.
'Common folk' to billionaire,
how little love we share.
©2010 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Matthew 25 (NASB)
42 '...for I was hungry, and you gave Me nothing to eat;
I was thirsty, and you gave Me nothing to drink;
43 I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in;
naked, and you did not clothe Me;
sick, and in prison, and you did not visit Me.'
louis gander, 19 march 2013
Who begins the timeline,
life's hourglass, brand new?
Excitement grasps first days of life
as grains of sand slip through.
Youthful times surround us.
We lack full wisdom's clue.
We learn to make decisions though,
as grains of sand slip through.
Middle age is stressful
with obligations due -
so we go about our business
as grains of sand slip through.
Oh, to know the answers -
and every facet knew -
so we prepare the answers then
as grains of sand slip through.
With sunset years upon us,
we find God's Word is true -
but still the days flee fast from us
as grains of sand slip through.
Who holds our real value -
and have regrets, will you -
as the hourglass stands empty and
the final grain slips through?
©2009 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Ecclesiastes 9:12 (NASB) Moreover, man does not know his time: like fish caught in a treacherous net and birds trapped in a snare, so the sons of men are ensnared at an evil time when it suddenly falls on them.
louis gander, 19 march 2013
When all the richest people rest in graveyards,
before their grand possessions rot and rust,
I turn my eyes and humbly look to Heaven,
for Jesus is the only one I trust.
When all the famous celeb's rest in graveyards,
and all their loyal fans find other 'stars',
I turn my eyes and humbly look to Heaven,
for Jesus is my friend who holds the scars.
When all the greatest rulers rest in graveyards,
down underneath the oxen and the plows,
I turn my eyes and humbly look to Heaven,
for I have life which only God allows.
When all the folks around me fall to pieces,
solutions sought - but they can find them not -
I shake my head in wonder with the Heavens,
for I have Him whom they have all forgot.
When all the world can wonder why I'm happy -
and simple minds can't seem to understand,
I simply trust God's promises in Heaven,
continuing to hold His loving hand.
When friends and family wonder why I journey,
to places in my thoughts they'll never know -
horizons of my faith still kiss the Heavens,
as that's the path I'm traveling below.
©2010 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
Job 23 (NASB)
10 "But He knows the way I take;
When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.
11"My foot has held fast to His path;
I have kept His way and not turned aside.
12"I have not departed from the command of His lips;
I have treasured the words of His mouth more than my necessary food.
Gert Strydom, 19 march 2013
The moon rose like a pirate
with one bloody eye
and far away in the sky
a star shell glittered the light of day.
Like ghosts with only minute lights burning
our armoured cars crept
into the death dark night
until someone spotted a enemy tank
and then some more
and gun after gun flashed alive
sending their messengers
into the dark.
Gert Strydom, 19 march 2013
He came from a fissure
in the brick wall,
a small creature
with a open mouth
and forked tongue,
moving its eyelids
and scales gleaming
in the early morning air.
His blue head caught my eye
where he laid in the sun
as if trying to catch the first
hot rays
and when I grabbed for him
I was left
with the twisting tail in my hand
and the rock-lizard disappeared
back from where he came.
Gert Strydom, 19 march 2013
(after Philip Arthur Larkin)
Through the window
I look at the blue sky
stretching out from horizon to horizon
and totally amazing the bright blue
seems to me
and yet a limit is set to it
but as night comes
the darkness stretches out
as if into infinity into space
past the shining lights, of stars,
galaxies and the known universe
into the unknown
and I wonder if anyone
would ever find an end to it?
[Reference: High Windows by Philip Arthur Larkin.]
Satish Verma, 19 march 2013
Forest was partisan
lilies blushing,
moon was parting the milky way,
on the terrace
the absurd man, and the spaces
missing,
the house locked in,
are left
wrecked manuscripts of attempts
to save the translations
of life’s books
Give me some language
to read again
from the walls
Satish Verma
Blossom Sol, 18 march 2013
Dreams have disappeared
under icecubes of pillows
let her sleep
in her death orientated way
she sings in harmony
with broken pianos
and burnt out violins
to the sounds of the lost -
the people that forgot how to sing.
We forget in our hazy duality
that we exist
that we are alive
but living is not enough
for we live under a murderers knife
in which at any moment
we could break
for goodness sake
and for no sake at all
we are afraid
of being
seeing
the reality
we have all been dreaming
we are scared
of leaving behind
what we do not live at all
let us stand tall
against this
purgatory
this lost dreamt place
the anger on your face
chase chase chasing
you to your ancient land
it has been planned
but you will not listen
I only ever wanted to see your silver moonlight glisten
on my love of a heart
that you tore from the start
and push into my way
For I am here to stay
you can not leave me
you have made me immortal
So for eternity i shall stay
until i can take you through my portal
Amun ka ra
Anthony DiMichele, 18 march 2013
when I came into my life
and became my significant other
I became a grave by-product
I love the way he tells me there
has got to be a system
to build a car out of data
choices will be modular options
with a whim of individualism
the great divide echos with
very little variation
in sarcasm
which takes enourmous amounts
of delusion
normalization
floundering mindscapes in an ocean
of insane insecurity
constant dissonance resonantes
hammering chords into random bonds
adapted to what is malleable
within a monoculture
I have no relative resources
to spare
I like reason I understand resistence
as well
there have been far too many linguistic
massacres
whole languages disappear without notice
*
before you leave I want to ask you
how you got here
priority mail?
that microcosm of a macroworld
of competition
that no way is anything other
than murderous which makes me
garnish my neighbor’s ruthless
barbeque
I make good money nominally
a narcissist can make a movie
out of it
that goes viral
in the impossible
*
your loneliness accuses me
of being someone I hate
who shamelessly steals my shoes
those identical twins day and night
but I am accountable
and talk then talk over
talk with more talk
which is absurd which I have already
heard
because it is part of all the talk
your loneliness I have heard is not
my business
but I have no business
but silence
which accuses me
*
your absence empties the task
at hand of significance
who needs you when I play hide and seek
with myself?
is that what you mean?
*
you are up now well after I woke
restlessly
in a seperate room I hear the bass notes
of wood against wood
and maybe something made of metal and glass
and I wonder if I should go for walk
to be gone for you
*
it is a fine late autumn afternoon
of cold sunshine in
March
fall spring
they miss each other
so much
they resemble each other
they just can’t let go
*
listen
just for another hour
like background noise
distant traffic
to a raven in fir tree
next to a cemetery
or cicadas after a hard rain
with 90 percent humidity
or wall paper from another century
the white noise in the dry yellow grass
listen to how tall it gets
tomorrow
*
the curtains are closed
holding back the light
when it wants in
the clocks haven’t quite digested
last night’s leftovers
or a forthnight’s overdraws
I suppose
*
when you are really happy I know I had no
real part in it
so I have nothing to fear
*
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 18 march 2013
I see you as not an asset to my life
Why will you not listen to a thing I say.
Because you want things your way?
I am not a mean person ;however you have become an ogre......
I will not live my life in a bubble for you are anyone else.
It makes me sick, as sick as you.
My freinds are scattered everywhere, I go to sights to vent by writing poetry, that you were never interested in-My ire and anger started to flow and now it is like a sleeping volcano
Why don't you just let me be.......Because you don't know who you really are.
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