Running, but not keeping track,
Does not back a good race;
Calling, but not looking back,
Denotes lack of goodness.
A man was here with a message,
Which wasn’t meant for the birds.
Do not make him wait till the end,
Drying up our time, dull and wasted.
I won’t let the ink of fountain-pens dry,
Whether you stay behind or come;
And my own voice won’t even cry,
If you waylay there, loud or mum.
If you choose to stay away,
We shall smoke and we will sing.
If you choose to keep at bay,
Not a soul will be missing.
Our own pens will sing and dance,
And will paint chic, indelible words
Of royal blue or majestic black;
And all the curvy hips will sway;
And each man will trade his sword
For a warrior’s lips to play.
When our girls and boys join as one,
Our voice shall ring and reign over yours;
And you will knock on locked doors;
And your wicked legs will stagger,
When we all walk out with a swagger.
So what will you do, full of pride and shame,
When you see a sea of many happy faces,
And discover your own head missing,
When your own head is too high to sail?
You can wait and sit in the cold,
And gnash each of all your teeth;
Show others how you are bold,
Till your "faith" freezes to a myth.
The songs of our souls, the truths of our hearts,
Shall erase those wrongs in your deeds;
And this strength in our faith, the gift of our God,
Shall slay that muse in your head!
-- 9/10 Feb. 2003.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!! ... My tone mellowing is the silence
before the storm, so don’t get too comfortable.
I am the burning fire that is consuming everything
cuz I’m not compromising with Satan at all.” ...
“Go and play that trick on your forum and not here!
This is not yours: Don’t fly too far -- and get lost -- in Cyberspace!!