(Philosophy Poem) Three Minutes Till The End

THREE MINUTES TILL THE END

 

Three minutes, it’s not a lot of time

But, if it were in deed all we have left

Three minutes, what should we choose to do

Not much time to think or act, cry or pray

What if, three minutes will be the end of all life

 

 

Friends, what would we do, will we whine and cry

Do we think carnal, grab the first skirt for a quickie try

Like blood in an hourglass the seconds are ticking by

Do we smoke one last joint so we can go out with a high

Would we wonder how it is going to feel to die

How many seconds will we spend in self-pity crying

 

 

Do we hit the floor with our knees and cry to on High

Should we spend our precious time pleading for more

Maybe we should flip open our phone for calls and texts

O Lord if so please teach our fingers how to fly

Who do we choose for that one last call or text

Whom is it that we choose for to drop that one dime

 

 

How quick a note to tell them all, that they were loved

Would we take that very last moment to spend with our Lord

For all their lives, and our own, to thank Him for His love

One last chance to ask Him for all our Souls to love and save

Every second that passes, we are that much closer to the grave

(Philosophy Poem) Today Is The Past: As We Breathe It

TODAY IS THE PAST: AS WE BREATHE IT

 

To the days that have passed, with us along for the ride

A salute to all of our yesterdays, with our smiles up or down

Spend little time on the stripes received, that we’ve not earned

Smiles on faces seen, but on some, with time, names forgotten

One’s own bed, finally peaceful, quiet, snuggle in, smile, cry, pray

Loved ones, one by one, through time, left our arms, not our hearts

 

 

Snapshots of peaceful times, some on mind, some caught on print

Years gone by, do our memories really fade, like the whisper of time

Patriarch in your forties, not something ever longed for, or wished to see

Our children, and now theirs grownup, to ignore that we ever breathed

Things we have done wrong, own them, sometimes, some peace will be

Yesterdays ill’s, we can’t hit replay, change mistakes or the hearts broken

 

 

History is today, don’t be the butt of tomorrows viral You Tube jokes

Yesterday is now our past, good or bad it’s over, now breathe, it’s gone

Mistakes can haunt the human brain till we let them put us in a grave

Tomorrow we all could be dancing on the stair well to Heaven with Angels

The bliss we seek depends on today, not the shadows of our past, unchangeable

We all choose our path, today and tomorrow will soon for all, be our past

(Heart Felt Agony Poem) I Tried To Love You

I TRIED TO LOVE YOU

 

When I am dead

Will you remember me

From my grave I will be quiet

Can I still praise and serve you

If the beating of my heart you destroy

 

I am so weary with the aching of my heart

My tear drops like blood stain my sheets each night

You cause my Soul to grow weary with your hate and lies

Do not your eyes grow tired of seeing everyone as a mark

Viper woman, is the destruction of my heart is your goal

 

The Lord always hears the prayers of those who love and Serve Him

It seems my heart, mind and body are yours to destroy at your will

Foolish, foolish woman, you are destined to live in your hate alone

The Lord indeed see’s the tears and hears the prayers of His servants

I tried to love you, Lord have mercy on those you set your eyes upon

 

(A SALUTE TO X-WIFE)

 

 

(Humanity Poem) The Slavery Side Of Being Poor

THE SLAVERY SIDE OF BEING POOR

 

Slavery a Devils device to choke and subdue the weak and the poor

Breath, a life, hope, not at the end of The Boss Mans chains and rope

Captivity, chaining the feet to the rich mans dirt, no life, just work

Weak and the poor plow their fields, fight their wars, spill our blood

Least Humans united helps take the whip off of our Boss Mans side

 

Live under a bridge or find safety in a cardboard version of a tent

Get cozy with a fire barrel hopefully long enough to warm oneself

The few have so much while the much need to be held with a bit

Work dawn to dusk, make a little jingle live to see the sunrise again

Money, food, life, all gone so easy never sleep well don’t close both eyes

 

Humans need more to live for than looking for “The Light” when they die

Working both feet in the grave to support your family, give them a ray of life

Poor man is a dead man walking from conception till toes up in his grave

Mr. Franklin’s mean you have a roof overhead, power, food, A/C, and heat

Need no whips, we have Hollywood and DC to tell us all what to do and think

 

If the Media loves the Prez it’s amazing how good a dead economy can look

Two percent inflation, yet ten times that when you try to buy some food to cook

Trunk in The Office, amazing how cold a once heated economy can get crooked

Even when the world of The Lords is dim, still it’s brighter than under their whips

Poorest of the poor need a seat at life’s table or Humans won’t continue to be

 

 

(Poem Of Reality) Too The Trees (A Soldiers Prayer Of Survival On The Battlefield)

TOO THE TREES

 

To the trees my Captain yells

Across this open field of green

Flowers blooming from spring rains

Will they be the last thing I smell or see

Are there Cross Hairs locked upon my brain

Will a gray pill be the last thing that I feel

 

 

All those trees, are those just branches looking at me

Or will this effort to reach them be the death of me

Leaving my bones to rot among the flowers in this field

Do I run as fast as I can with my breath held in prayer

Or do I play the coward using my brothers as a shield

Letting them taste first the fiery breath of Hell’s lead

 

 

If in the trees our enemy is waiting there for you and me to kill

When to the trees the Captain yells do we jump up and run like hell

Should we low crawl chins dug into the mud hoping were not shelled

Will we be a fool if we do stand up and charge toward the row of trees

Or will we die in this field of green if we raise our head above the weeds

Life is a war, every breath is a chance it will be the last one we breathe

 

 

To the trees like the charge ordered by General Robert E Lee

Like life itself no matter what we do, doubting itself is a gamble

Do we run in hope or do we cower in fear, do we die here, or there

This field to me so beautiful, there are worse places to be my grave

If we just cower here in the mud and never step out onto life’s field

We know we will never get out of this life alive, so what do we do

 

 

Hold your breath and pray, now step into this field of life or death

If in life we choose to never seek the thrills, then a cowards life we live

The fields of life we will not cross, nor the flowers will we ever smell

If we lived our life without the thrills, can we truly say we ever lived

To the trees child, to the trees, up off your ass and face your trees

(Poem Of Reality) Too The Trees (A Soldiers Prayer Of Survival On The Battlefield)

TOO THE TREES

 

To the trees my Captain yells

Across this open field of green

Flowers blooming from spring rains

Will they be the last thing I smell or see

Are there Cross Hairs locked upon my brain

Will a gray pill be the last thing that I feel

 

 

All those trees, are those just branches looking at me

Or will this effort to reach them be the death of me

Leaving my bones to rot among the flowers in this field

Do I run as fast as I can with my breath held in prayer

Or do I play the coward using my brothers as a shield

Letting them taste first the fiery breath of Hell’s lead

 

 

If in the trees our enemy is waiting there for you and me to kill

When to the trees the Captain yells do we jump up and run like hell

Should we low crawl chins dug into the mud hoping were not shelled

Will we be a fool if we do stand up and charge toward the row of trees

Or will we die in this field of green if we raise our head above the weeds

Life is a war, every breath is a chance it will be the last one we breathe

 

 

To the trees like the charge ordered by General Robert E Lee

Like life itself no matter what we do, doubting itself is a gamble

Do we run in hope or do we cower in fear, do we die here, or there

This field to me so beautiful, there are worse places to be my grave

If we just cower here in the mud and never step out onto life’s field

We know we will never get out of this life alive, so what do we do

 

 

Hold your breath and pray, now step into this field of life or death

If in life we choose to never seek the thrills, then a cowards life we live

The fields of life we will not cross, nor the flowers will we ever smell

If we lived our life without the thrills, can we truly say we ever lived

To the trees child, to the trees, up off your ass and face your trees